Luna Carmoon

In Hoard (2024), the accumulated mess cannot be separated neatly from the love attached to it. Luna Carmoon keeps us close to people whose behaviour is distressing, without softening them into easier company. We were unsettled by the film because clearing the clutter never feels like an adequate answer to what we see. It is a good, abrasive drama, and its sympathy survives even the stretches that test our patience.

Her first short, Nosebleed (2019), was followed by Shagbands (2020), a coming-of-age film that found colour on London estates. Hoard, her feature debut, develops her interest in sensation and memory, with the past recalled through physical sensations rather than explanatory speeches. She allows scenes to dwell on routine without insisting that each one advance the plot. At its best, that patience lets us watch people without being told what to think of them.

Her collaborators include cinematographer Nanu Segal and editor Rachel Durance. The tactile detail in Hoard keeps its emotional distress tied to bodies and surroundings; we are not simply waiting for somebody to explain what is wrong. Saura Lightfoot-Leon gives the film the steadiness that its writing sometimes lacks. Carmoon gets something valuable from letting her play Maria without making every action immediately comprehensible. The performance remains absorbing when the film’s pace wanders.

At 126 minutes, Hoard sometimes asks for more patience than it repays. A fresh provocation can stand in for a developing relationship, and spending longer with Maria does not always change our understanding of her. Those passages leave the actors doing work the writing should have done. Carmoon’s second feature, the horror film To Make Ends Meat (2026), is a plausible next step for someone so attentive to bodily discomfort. Start with Hoard if abrasive drama appeals, and be prepared for it to repeat itself.